


Sit Still

by Anonymous



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Public Hand Jobs, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:28:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27176552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: One of Shinsuke's brows raise as if to sign a mild 'Yes?'.Although, Atsumu knows better than that. Kita isn't pondering why they both spontaneously connected eye contact, he's quirking a brow as if to say, 'Did you keep it in like I told you to?'Atsumu is sure he's on the verge of death.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 3
Kudos: 126
Collections: Anonymous





	Sit Still

Chandeliers cascade from ceilings overhead, dimly illuminating familiar faces, profiles producing grins and laughter as several figures continue to arrive and congest in the shared function room. Although the surroundings were relatively dark, several rays of light had managed to reflect from particularly familiar platinum blond strands. 

A glass of champagne remains grasped in Miya Atsumu's palm. 

The MSBY afterparty that tailed their victorious win in the Japanese Division 1 Men's League was premeditated. After all, a success is supposed to be milked of it's celebratory benefits, is it not? The tailored suits, the gold-plated medallions that fit snug around Atsumu's nape, the requests to be in photos, the free alcohol; he'd pass on refusing an opportunity like this slip merely to appear humble. 

In fact, everything was as perfect as could be with the spotlight on him. 

As one digit circles the rim of his glass, his honey orbs scan and scale the room for a specific someone ─ 

Ah. There he is. 

Seated on a grey chiffon sofa with one leg folded over the other, Atsumu spied ivory strands tipped black; Shin did make it after all. 

Atsumu fails to view Shinsuke in full due to a table meeting at his lower abdomen, but from his distance, he manages to see crimson slacks buckled with a fox-headed belt. 

And once their gazes lock, Atsumu feels although a chill breeze had suddenly brushed at his bare skin through his suit jacket. Kita looks divine: hair slicked back, a red fabric clinging for it's life atop his broad shoulders and a waistcoat defining his toned physique. 

One of Shinsuke's brows raise as if to sign a mild 'Yes?'. 

Although, Atsumu knows better than that. Kita isn't pondering why they both spontaneously connected eye contact, he's quirking a brow as if to say, 'Did you keep it in like I told you to?' 

Atsumu is sure he's on the verge of death. 

He tilts his head upwards, jutting his chin out in a regal manner; a bold move on his behalf, and one he'd shove aside for Future Atsumu, who would most definitely have him in a chokehold right about now. 

Brown orbs stare down the line of his nose to gaze Shinsuke directly in the eyes. 

'Why don't 'cha find out yerself?' 

Shinsuke's cranium lowers as Atsumu takes note of the slight curve at the farmost corner of Kita's lips. It's barely noticeable, and Atsumu would've certainly missed it if he had not been ogling at every inch of Shinsuke's presence; how not a strand of ivory hair is left askew, of how his slacks fit him a little too well, of how his hand is now slithering into a pocket in said slacks, and how he ─ 

Oh fuck. 

The setter finds himself raising a hand to smack over his mouth, the digits wrapped around his champagne glass trembling. It turns out that standing with a vibrating plug shoved up your ass isn't as easy as Atsumu thought it was. 

The highest settin'? 'Yer so mean 'ta me, Shin. 

And fuck, he may as well dissipate into thin air, because his cock is twitching to life in his own pair of slacks, and his legs are beginning to fail him. 

Atsumu attempts his upmost efforts at stumbling towards the table as well as the chiffon couch, although seven steps has never felt so fucking hard in his pitiful years of living. Not only that, he must be looking like a fucking idiot. 

With one step after another, Atsumu's champagne threatens to spill on his finely fit suit, and apparently it isn't the only thing threatening him, because he releases a moan thankfully low enough that the chatter overrides him. 

"Atsumu. 'Ya looking sick there," Shinsuke muses as Atsumu's hand flies to the side of the sofa, "Why don't 'ya fix 'yerself a seat?" 

From underneath the table, Atsumu spies Shinsuke's hand shifting, and he almost gives in once the vibrations become more frantic, more aggressive, rubbing against his prostate. His head throws back involuntarily, although the lack of a noise decides to leave his dignity somewhere between his vibrating ass and his hard, leaking dick. 

Atsumu hears Shinsuke chuckle lowly over the unwanted voices. 

"Come n' sit down." 

Throwing his head forwards, the vibrations had paused. Small mercies, perhaps. Atsumu is mildly relieved at the sight of both Shinsuke's hands. 

So he isn't about to cream his pants. Nice. 

As he brings his tremulous legs towards the empty space beside his boyfriend, Atsumu finally lowers himself down, and releases a mild sigh at the shifting of the plug ─ barely grazing his prostate. 

"Good boy." 

Shinsuke allows one of his palms to rest atop Miya's thigh. His fingertips dip down the curve of his thigh, centimetres away from his heavy, erect cock, and Atsumu physically restrains himself from bucking up against it like a whore. 

Oh, but he so could come from humping against Kita's hand. 

"Tsum-Tsum!" 

God. Fuck, no. Not right now. Not when I'm about to come in my fuckin' pants and my dick is as hard as my fuckin' life right now ─ 

Both Atsumu and Kita physically perk at the sight of Bokuto, Shouyou and Sakusa arriving. They all hold three chairs taken from aside, and all lay them across from the barrier that remains to be the table between them. 

"O... Oh! Hey guys! 'M just sittin' here with Shin, there an emergency or somethin'?" 

An anxious chuckle leaves his chapped lips. Atsumu leans forward, forearms and elbows resting upon the surface of the table to make an attempt to hide the tent growing by the second in his pants. 

Bokuto bursts into laughter, Hinata following, while Sakusa folds his arms across his chest. 

"Well, you see, Tsum... You were looking a little under the weather earlier!" 

"Yeah! Are you okay, Atsumu-san?!" 

Shinsuke's hand rises. 

"Oh, yeah! Pshhh... yeah, nah. 'M all good... just a lil' tipsy with the drinks n' things... heh." 

Clink. 

Atsumu's eyes threaten to flicker downwards at his crotch, at whatever Kita is currently doing, at the noise that had just occurred, although his suspicion levels would drastically rise and there is no way he's contributing to his unintentional voyeurism. 

"Oh good!" Bokuto exclaims, he shifts to meet directly with Kita, "Hey, hey, hey, Kita-san! Tsum-Tsum has told us tons about you!" 

Two heavy weights had spawned on the side of Atsumu's hips, his slacks feeling more loose around the ─ 

Holy fuck. 

Kita unclasped his belt. And is now currently sliding his brisk hand down the inside of his slacks. Shinsuke palms over his hard cock, digits following the print of the head, down the shaft, and even cups at his balls, fondling them slightly in his fingertips. 

God. Atsumu's going to fucking come. 

Except the hand retreats. 

"Ah, has he now? Good things, I'm hopin'." 

Before returning, this time tugging the waistband of his boxers lower to pull Atsumu's cock out. It's red, heady and heavy with need, and achingly out in the fucking open for anyone to see if they were standing where Atsumu had minutes ago. 

"Yesyes, always good from Tsum!" Bokuto laughs. 

Sakusa's gaze softens, peering at the farmer with no signs of aggression, "Kita-san. How is the farm?" 

Atsumu may just ruin his entire reputation because of his lack of self-control. 

"It's well," Shinsuke responds, digits wrapping around his shaft and drawing slow strokes from the base, to the tip. His touch tightens only slightly at the head, precome staining Kita's dainty, yet calloused palms. It's dirty. It's real fucking dirty, but something about the possibility that they may get caught only brings Atsumu more to the edge. 

Speaking of Atsumu, his mouth has taken refuge in his palm, strained breaths heating his lower face. Hips buck once into the touch, and the setter crosses his fingers that nobody noticed him shifting oddly. 

"My crops are doin' better now that the weather is doin' well," he hums, flicking his wrist once again over Atsumu's tip, "Thank you for askin', Kiyoomi. How's 'ya plants going?" 

The small hand wrapped around Atsumu's cock increases it's pace, the pad of Kita's thumb pressing against his slit. Miya's index digit instantly pressed into his own lips to bite on skin as a type of leverage, or muffler. Both. 

"They're good. I've been watering them everyday," Sakusa begins. Shinsuke hums in response, tight fist stroking up and down Atsumu's dick, dragging the foreskin with it to brush over the tip, "So I hope they will continue this way." 

Kita nods, "Glad 'ta hear." 

A clatter breaks the silence. All four of them shifted to peer under the table, although Shinsuke held out a careful hand to halt their actions. 

Fuck. Atsumu would've been traumatised if they had caught him cock out in public. 

"Ah. I apologise, I think I dropped somethin'." 

With gentle words said, the farmer hums, only to lean his upper half lower. 

Of course Shinsuke isn't attempting to find what he had just so happened to drop. 

Instead of one, both of Kita's calloused, rough palms wrapped nicely around Atsumu leaking, throbbing cock with accuracy. And once pillowed tiers engulfed around his tip, Atsumu threw his head back and leant against the material of the chiffon. 

A light sigh passed as Shinsuke continued deeper, taking him inch by inch. 

"Tsum-Tsum, maybe you guys should go home... You look real drunk!" 

How the fuck did Atsumu let himself forget they were in public? 

Although, Shinsuke hadn't paused his ministrations. His tongue swirled around Atsumu's leaking slit, dipping across nicely, before Atsumu suddenly groaned. 

A flood of salty release flooded Shinsuke's senses. And yet, his lips stayed in their tight clasp around his shaft. A few bobs of the farmer's Adam's Apple. 

Kita had swallowed. 

"Atsumu-san! Are you in pain?!" 

"Y... Yeah... I think we're gonna get goin' now...' 

Kita arose with a small ring in his index and thumb. 

"Sorry for the disturbance."


End file.
